Spendaholic in Shreveport
by TekniCAL
Summary: Written but never submitted for the Snarky Sidekick Contest.  Pam's friends are concerned she has a spending problem.  Will a combination of their efforts and those of Dear Abby be able to help Pam with her addiction?


**A/N:** I had written this with intentions of entering the contest. But, as with most good intentions...well you know the saying. I finally found some time to complete it, although it is unbeta'd, as is most of my work. I thought it shouldn't go to waste just hanging on my hard drive, so here it is. This is written in Canon (with maybe slight OOC in characters, after all they are MY interpretation), covering all books up to Dead Reckoning and any anthology works in between. Charlaine Harris is creator of the Canon and the characters. I did sort of use the story "Confessions of a Shopaholic" as inspiration for the story, but basically the plot and it's words are all mine! Enjoy!

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><p><em>Dear Abby:<em>

_My friend is a permanent early twenties mistress of the night. No, not a prostitute – a vampiress. _

_Anyway, I (she) needs help. She has become very depressed recently and is shopping excessively, spending way too much - sometimes all of her money and her master's - and I don't think she knows how to stop. Shopping seems to make her feel happy, and since her depression, she has gone out shopping nearly every evening for stuff she doesn't even need. She has even started shopping online for stuff and doesn't have any remorse. All of her friends and co-workers feel horrible about this. Her Maker has even tried freezing her bank accounts, but when she ran out of funds, she just tapped right into his. Please help me (her). None of us know what to do._

_ Signed __Spend-a-Holic in Shreveport, La._

**Dear Spend-a-Holic in Shreveport, La.**

It is time for your friend to stop and take inventory of what she has and what she doesn't. She is substituting "things" for something important that's missing in her life. (Could it be a vampire soul mate?) Trying to self-medicate long-term depression by going on a spending spree is putting a Band-Aid on an infected wound.

Please contact her physician for a referral to a doctor who can give her medication to lift the depression, as well as counseling for her underlying problem. It is the only way to fix what's ailing her.

ooooOOOOOooooooo

**Weeks earlier…**

"Fangtasia, the bar with bite. Where all your nightmares are undead. How can I direct your call?" answered the temporary human bartender, who was currently filling in Felicia's vacant position, after her untimely final demise.

"May I speak with Pamela Ravenscroft, please?" a nasally voice came from the other end. The caller sounded like one of those telemarketers, overly pronouncing Pam's name.

"I'm sorry, but she has yet to rise for the evening, may I take a message?"

"This is a courtesy call from GE Finance regarding her platinum Visa card. There has been an extraordinary amount of activity in the last two weeks and she is now reaching her credit limit. Could you have her return our call at her earliest convenience?"

"Sure thing. I'll get the Mistress the message as soon as she arrives." The bartender hung up and scribbled a note to herself on a nearby order pad. That was the fourth phone call tonight from one of Pam's creditors. She was worried her Mistress had fallen victim to some identity thief. She would like to be a fly on the wall when Pam found out who the perpetrators were! There was one thing she had learned quite quickly after being hired as a bartender at Fangtasia, other than to recognize the Master's human wife and have a gin and tonic at the ready, and that was Pam had a vicious temper – that and she had a killer sense of humor – pun intended. She also owned more pastel than the Easter bunny, of that she was certain.

As she resumed the task of preparing the bar for the night, she heard someone come in the back door. A second later, Eric, the main owner of the club and Sheriff of Area Five appeared in front on her.

"Anything I need to be aware of before I go start the paperwork?" he asked.

The girl hemmed and hawed a little and shifted nervously. She didn't want to get on Pam's bad side, for obvious reasons, but she was concerned and felt Eric should know.

"What is it?" he asked, sensing her indecision based strictly on her body language and the slight odor humans give off when they are nervous.

"Would you like a blood?"

"Stop stalling. What is it?" he asked, a little more forcefully this time. He was under a lot of pressure from the King after Victor's death by his hand and strain with a situation where a queen was demanding his part in an arranged marriage he wanted nothing to do with and a human wife who was disappointed with just about everything he did or didn't do lately.

"Well, umm…I've received several calls for Miss Pam this evening."

"And?"

"…And, well, they are regarding her credit. Apparently, she or someone who has access to her accounts has been on a spending spree and two have been completely maxed out, while the others are nearing their limit. I…I thought maybe you should know – just in case – I don't know. I just don't want to see anything bad happen to Pam."

Eric smirked. Apparently, Pam had a fan in this bartender. Then he scowled. A little over a week ago he had to pay off an outrageous balance on Pam's Corporate Card. He recalled a lengthy discussion regarding her recent spending habits and about using the business card for her personal expenditures. He wondered what was going on with his child.

In response to this news, he simply nodded to the bartender. "I'll be in my office if you need anything before the others arrive." As quickly as he arrived, he vanished presumably to his office, where he had been spending more and more time as of late. Rumors had spread among the fangbangers that he was having marital problems. Some claimed it was due to money, but others thought it had something to do with a shakeup in vamp politics, since it was known that the vampire owner of two prominent bars just outside of Shreveport had mysteriously disappeared and was presumed finally dead – with Eric as the prime suspect. All rumors have a sprig of truth to them, the bartender thought, as she carried on her evening.

As Eric entered his office, he stumbled over several boxes that had been stacked inside the doorway. Tonight was not a scheduled delivery of the club supplies and the gift shop had received its shipment two nights ago. He bent down to look at the name on the box. The one he inspected was addressed to Pam. He checked some of the others – they were _all _addressed to Pam. Some were large and rather heavy, while others were small and pink and had fancy writing on them. He kicked them out of his way and stomped over to his chair, plopping down heavily. These last few weeks had weighed heavily on him and now it seemed there was one more problem to deal with.

He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Pam.

"Are you on your way?" he asked, as the line clicked when she answered.

"I'm taking the night off," she replied.

"Did you ask?"

"Do I need to? Being part owner does have its benefits. Besides, how many times have you run off to a certain Telepath, leaving me behind to deal with things. I am owed."

"Fair enough, but you might want to come and collect your packages. They are taking up needed space in my office."

"Packages?" Pam asked, guiltily. "Not _that_ pink! The _Chanel_ pink, imbecile!" she rattled off in Vietnamese.

Eric heard what sound like water splashing and the distinct sound of someone being kicked. "Where are you?"

"Nail Salon. Pedicure."

"Didn't you just get a your nails done on Tuesday?"

"Yes, but today is Thursday."

"Don't you think you are going a bit overboard with all this shopping and beauty treatments you've been getting done lately?"

"Dear Abby says women must take care of themselves outwardly in order to feel good inwardly," Pam retorted.

"Vampires cannot be ill, Pam. Your innards are just fine without all this - this fuss."

"Honestly, Eric. I wonder sometimes how Sookie can put up with you. You are just so, what's the term…..Clueless. Yes, clueless." And she abruptly hung up.

The Vietnamese man came shrinking back with three different nail colors in hand, careful not to do anything to further provoke the woman.

"Why do you have three different colors? There is only one Chanel pink!" she snapped. Pam settled back in her massaging chair and pulled out her smartphone. She learned there was a new 'App' that allowed her to make purchases from the comfort of wherever she sat.

Meanwhile, Sookie was just arriving home from an extended afternoon shift at Merlotte's. As she pulled into her driveway, her headlights caught what looked like a small pile of boxes set next to the front door, on the porch. She couldn't imagine who would be sending her anything, especially since she hadn't spoken to Eric since that awful night at the Club. Images of a withering Victor as well as all the other carnage still haunted her.

"Maybe Dermot ordered something for his attic remodeling project," Sookie thought to herself. She continued to drive around back and park, before heading into the house through her normal route. She immediately went to the front door and flipped on the porch light to see who the packages were for. To her astonishment, they were all addressed to her!

"What the hell? If this is some pathetic way to buy back my affection, Eric Northman, you are sadly mistaken!" she yelled into the night. But, curiosity got the best of her and she decided to drag the boxes in and at least open one up to see what was inside. There was always the off chance that Eric wasn't behind the deliveries.

She went and grabbed a paring knife and slid it down the seam of the package to slice open the tape. The first box contained a new fancy coffee maker, like the kind you'd see at one of those overpriced coffee shops where a cup of Joe would cost you $5. She looked at the packing list to see if she could tell who the sender was, but it was one of those 'gift' receipts.

Again, curiosity getting the best of her, she opened the next box. This one contained a set of beautiful ceramic and wrought iron canisters for her kitchen countertop. They were even labeled in fancy script: one for flour, sugar, silver and citrus. "What the hell?" she couldn't help but repeat to herself. She dug through the box for the packing list of this one to see if that held a clue as to the sender. Still nothing.

The last box contained three smaller wrapped boxes in them, each labeled with a name. One with her own name, but the others were addressed to Claude and Dermot. Well, actually they didn't have their names per say - one said, "Stripper Fairy" and the other said, "Brother Look-a-like Fairy". When Sookie unwrapped hers, she found an "As Seen On TV" box with some girl on the front showing off various ways to up-do your hair. "Huh," was all Sookie could mutter, as she looked at the box. Now, this one was shocking because she had just seen it on TV the last time she was at Eric's. She was laying around waiting for him to be done with whatever it was he did in his home office and decided to channel surf. He had one of those giant flat screen things, mounted to the wall in his living room and practically every channel known to man (and still nothing on!) Pam had just come by when the commercial came on and Sookie exclaimed how pretty those girls hair looked after they had used the 'magic' combs.

"Wait a second…" she glanced around for her purse. Her cell phone was inside. She dug it out and scrolled through her short address list until she came across Pam's number.

"Sookie! My favorite Telepath! How are you?" Pam said overly cheery.

"Hey Pam. I have a weird question. But, did you happen to send me a bunch of stuff for my kitchen and that cool hair accessory thing I saw on TV the other night at Eric's?"

"Do you have that many admirers that you do not know who would send you such items?" Pam retorted.

"_I wish_," Sookie muttered. Of course, with Pam's supernatural hearing, she caught that. "No. I thought at first it might be Eric trying to make amends, but then I saw the hair accessory thing and I thought of you."

"Sookie, my Master does not need to make amends with a human. Even if I believe he should have been honest with you up front about the shit storm Appius got him involved in, I do not agreed with how you handled Victor's demise. He needed to die. I only wish he could have suffered a little longer, as my Miriam suffered, as I suffer."

"Are you OK, Pam?" Sookie softened at Pam's little confession.

"Perfectly. Your welcome for the gifts. Since Eric and I destroyed your kitchen, I thought it was the least I could do."

"What about the gifts for my fairy relations. What's that about?"

"The stripper seems fascinated with himself, so I bought him a hand-held mirror that is also a recorder. When he looks into the mirror, it will automatically play one of five preset affirmations. However, it is customizable it too, if you'd like to record your own sayings."

"Wow! That sure is something. What did you get my Uncle?"

"Well, considering he is a twin, but he also looks like your brother, there could potentially be three of them walking around – if your grandfather were still alive. Three Stackhouses….err Brigants could be confusing to anybody. So, I got both Dermot and Jason ID bracelets, to prove who was who, if asked. They are 24-carat gold and enchanted so that once put on by the correct person, they cannot be taken off or exchanged. I knew these twins once. They could do this thing with their tongues…"

"Pam! I don't want to hear that, please."

"Really, Sookie. I know you cannot be as prudish as you claim to be. I know Eric…"

"Yes, well – whatever. Your point was?"

"My point was that twins like to mess with people. It's one of the things that only twins – at least identical ones – can do that no one else can."

"Oh! You mean switch identities?"

"Exactly. With these bracelets though, you'll never have to guess if it's your brother or your uncle sleeping in your bed, I mean your house."

"Well, thanks Pam! I sure do appreciate your kindness. It's just, well, not like you. We've known each other for a while now and I've never known you to show kindness to anyone."

"Things have changed. It's the new me. Dear Abby says in order to help yourself, you must help others and one way to do that is through random acts of kindness. Consider these gifts that."

"I will. And Pam? If you need to talk, you know you can always count on me."

"We are talking, Sookie." And with that all Sookie heard was dial-tone.

In the next minute, Sookie's home phone was ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hey sis. It's Jase. Hey, Michele just found some boxes out on my back patio. Apparently, the UPS guy dropped them while I was at work. I was wonderin'…Did you send me somethin'? Because, I didn't order anything for nobody and Michele didn't neither."

"Well, funny you should ask…" Sookie began. She spent the next several minutes explaining to Jason the conversation she just had with Pam. By the time she hung up with him, she had learned that Pam not only bought Jason an ID bracelet like she said, but also a signed football by Terry Bradshaw, to remind Jason of his glory days in High School - of the has-beens and the who's who now. She also sent a digital calendar, engraved with the Ford logo on it, for his girlfriend Michele. Apparently, Sookie had mentioned previously to Pam that Michele worked as a scheduler at the local Ford dealership.

Over the next several days, various acquaintances of Pam received random 'gifts'. For instance, Amelia Broadway, Pam's one-time lover and BFF to Sookie Stackhouse, received a Make Your Own Brew kit. "A BREW made for you by you!" the box said on the front. Pam thought it would help Amelia with her witchy practice. It turns out 'Brew' is also slang for beer. Amelia also received a membership to a 'Tea of the month' club, because Amelia preferred tea over coffee when she was staying with Sookie.

Sam Merlotte received an autographed copy of Snoopy, framed, numbered, and with a certificate of authenticity. She included a personalized note, wondering if it were possible for a Shifter to shift into a cartoon dog, as well as a real one, if all he needed was a picture to look at.

Alcide Herveaux, the Shreveport packmaster, received a man purse or 'Murse', made of non-destructive material, so the next time he had to shift on the fly, he could throw his clothes in his Murse and be on his way. There was nothing more awkward than showing up naked at someone's house…especially if it was Sookie's house. No tellin' who would answer the door. Alcide also received a three month paid membership to 'e-Howl', the premier dating website for Werewolves. Because of their unique relationship algorithms, they have a 98% success rate in finding the right Were mate for you or your money back! After Debbie Pelt, an unsuccessful courtship with Sookie, Maria-Star and Annabelle Bannister, Alcide truly needed some professional help - dating help.

And finally, Bill Compton received a trip voucher from Travelocity (which incidentally is run by gnomes) for a long trip off a short pier, as well as a deed for some beach front property in Arizona. He also received a membership to Ancestry . com, which should help put his vampire database idea into the 21st century. After all, it was just a glorified family tree.

Pam had bought nearly everyone she knew something recently, yet her '_random acts of kindness_' were not helping her feel any better. When she arrived at the bar one night she noticed someone had placed a cutout of a recent Dear Abby article by her locker in the employee lounge. As soon as she read it, she knew it was _her_ they were writing about and claiming to be a spend-a-holic. Her immediate reaction was to drain the breather who dared to take her self-improvement and twist it into some sort of problem that required human 'therapy'. Since that was against the human laws and would probably get Eric and her in more trouble than they already were, she decided the next best thing was to go buy that Cartier watch she saw the other day at her favorite local jewelry store.

When she arrived, the owner greeted her by her name. "Hello, Miss Ravenscroft! So nice to see you again. What can I get for you this evening?" So far, Pam's purchases alone had covered the owner's overhead costs for three months, delaying his inevitable forfeit on his lease. No one was buying expensive jewelry in this down market economy. Well, no one except Pam Ravenscroft!

"I want that Cartier watch I saw the other day. I knew I should have gotten it then. You talked me out of it!"

"My apologies madam. Let me get that for you straightaway," the elderly gentleman bowed and quickly backed away from the counter, before scurrying into the back room's vault, where they kept all the high priced items.

The bell on the door rang, signaling another customer had entered, as Pam tapped her perfectly manicured fingers on the glass counter.

"Oh, hello Pam! What are the odds of meeting you here?" a smartly dressed female vampire by the name of Dahlia Lynley-Chivers greeted.

Pam disliked Dahlia. Not because she was just a visiting vamp, 'Passing through' she had said, when she checked in with Eric about two months ago. It was because she had a killer sense of style – both figuratively and literally. Whenever Pam saw her, she was dressed to the nines in the latest styles, some before they were even available to the public.

"Hello, Dahlia. What _are_ the odds?" Pam drawled.

"Shopping for yourself or a gift?" Dahlia asked, just making conversation. She was slowly strolling by each of the glass enclosures, admiring the offerings of the small time shop.

"Myself. And you?"

"Oh, you know. Something for a gift, another one or two items for me. It's the only way to gift shop. Don't you agree?"

"Absolutely," Pam nodded, wondering where in the hell that old bastard of a salesman was.

"Ah. Here we are, Miss Ravenscroft," he called, coming briskly out of the back room with a small velvet black box in his hand.

"Oh! Hello there! I apologize for not seeing you right away. I'll be right with you, if that's OK?" he addressed Dahlia.

"Sure thing," she replied. "Take your time."

Pam swiftly opened the box he had set in front of her, feeling the rush of adrenaline she got every time she spotted the next thing she 'needed'. This watch was the perfect fix. It was shiny 18k gold, no silver of course, encrusted with fifty-two diamonds around its unique trapezoid shaped face. A cool $22,000. "I'll take it," she said in a breathy whisper.

"Of course, Miss Ravenscroft. Let me wrap it up for you!" the gentleman said eagerly.

Pam placed her new Citibank Black card on the counter and turned to see what Dahlia was admiring. Maybe she would get something that Dahlia would have bought too, just to stay up with things. While she was busy watching the other vampiress' every move, the jewelry owner was trying to run Pam's card unsuccessfully.

"Umm. I'm sorry, Miss but this card has been declined. Do you have some other form of payment?"

Pam's attention snapped back to the old man. "Of course, you fool!" She slapped down another card, this one an American Express Platinum. It had no limit, as long as you paid the balance off in full every month.

A few seconds later, he returned with that card as well. "I'm sorry Miss Ravenscroft, but this one has been declined as well."

"Try this one, then!" she barked. "And if that doesn't work, try this one!"

Dahlia was trying hard not to pay attention to what was going on, but being that she was vampire and the only other person in the store, it was hard not to overhear. "Is everything alright, Pam? Perhaps there is something wrong with his machine."

The man returned. "Many apologies, madam. But, each one of these has been declined. Perhaps you have another form of payment? Maybe a personal check or a debit card. There is an ATM just around the corner."

"Fuck a zombie!" Pam shouted. "That damned machine ate my debit card two weeks ago! And I'm all out of checks. The bank won't issue me any more!"

"How unusual," Dahlia replied. "They almost always give you more checks. That is unless you are overdrawn. Are you _overdrawn_, Pam?"

Pam threw her wallet down, stormed out of the store and quickly got in her car. She was furious and sad. She wished her Miriam were there to make her laugh or say something positive, to lift her spirits.

Suddenly, Eric appeared, floating down from the sky. He quietly opened the passenger door and sat down. "You are well?" a question he usually reserved for Sookie. However, these last few weeks, since Miriam's unfortunate death, Pam had been on a steady decline and it took him until now, to finally see the affects her passing has had on his beloved child.

"No, Eric! I am not alright! I have maxed out every credit card in my name and even in some pseudo names I use. The ATM ate my debit card and the bank will neither give me more checks nor a loan! I have no more money left, nor do I have my Miriam!" A single, bloody tear escaped her eye and slowly trailed down her right cheek.

Eric turned to look straight out the window, knowing that if he acknowledged this rare show of emotion, she would most likely attack him, as she had before recently, with all the stress surrounding Victor Madden and her terminally ill lover, Miriam.

"Start the car and bring me to your house," he ordered. It was an order from a Master to his child and one she had to obey.

Almost mechanically, she complied and within a few moments they were pulling into her quaint suburban neighborhood home.

"We are going to go inside and start making piles. One pile will be for absolutely keeping, that means you simply cannot part with it out of necessity. The other is for eBay and the third is for Craigslist. You are going to sell what you can and use that money to pay off your debts. Once that is taken care of, then we will address this other business." Again, this was a direct order and one she had to obey.

"How do you even know what eBay and Craigslist are?" she spat, as she began sorting through all her pastel Manolo Blahnik, Luis Vuitton and Chanel shoes.

"Maxwell Lee was blathering on about annuities, ROIs and the sinking economy. He mentioned many people were selling off their assets on these Internet sites, just to pay their bills and it gave me the idea." In reality, it was a recommendation from his human bartender at Fangtasia, who seemed genuinely fond of Pam.

Eric stood in Pam's guest bedroom doorway, which served as her walk-in closet – well one of them – his hands folded across his chest, watching as Pam stacked boxes upon boxes of unworn shoes into three separate piles. He shook his head, unbelieving that her problem had been so severe.

"I want you to take the next week off and sort all of this out. If you need help using these online tools, I will send Maxwell over to assist you. I don't want to see you back at the bar until this mess has been resolved. Understood?"

Pam scowled, but nodded. Eric could feel her indignation through their maker/child bond, but shouldered the emotion, because it was better than the rollercoaster of excitement, then despair and sadness she had been riding recently.

After a week and a half away from the bar, Pam finally returned to her post one evening, surprising the human bartender, still filling in for Felicia.

"Mistress Pam! How wonderful to see you!" she said excitedly. Then, realized her error and immediately cast her head down and went back to work. She wasn't sure if Pam would appreciate her enthusiasm or the fact that she drew attention to her not being around for several days.

Pam mechanically went about her tasks for a couple of days, always rolling around the idea that Dear Abby might truly be full of shit.

"Do you think Dear Abby really believes any of the crap she tells people?" Pam asked to the bartender one night after close. It was rare that the humans stayed this late, but they were short handed due to a variety of activities going on with Eric's retinue lately.

"I really don't know. Sometimes her advice seems so obvious that I don't understand why people hadn't thought of that before taking the time to write to an advice columnist. Other times, I think she _is_ full of shit," she replied honestly.

"You know what I think? I think I could write just as good an advice column as that bitch," Pam replied, surprising even herself.

"What a great idea, Mistress! In fact, I happen to know an editor that works for the Shreveport Tribune. Maybe if I put you in touch with her, you could pitch your idea!" the bartender said excitedly. She also thought that her editor friend just might be Pam's type.

oooOOOOoooo

**Several weeks later in the Shreveport Tribune:**

_Dear Mistress:_

_I have been blessed with the fortunate (or in my case, misfortune) of having several potential male lovers to choose from. Each has their own unique qualities that draw me to them, yet they also have several traits that truly revolt me. I have claimed to love each of them, although at different times and in different ways, but now it has come to a point where I must choose or I risk losing all of them and my own sanity in the process. Can you help? _

_ Signed – Love Sick in Sacramento_

**Dear Sookie – I mean 'Sacramento':**

Grow up and grow a pair! The man that is right for you, is the one who has always seen to your needs and loves you for who you are, not what you can do for them. He is also the man that is secure enough to pursue you, without care of who knows. He will love you and protect you with his life. But, most importantly, he is the one who makes you feel most alive. If I have to spell it out for you, than perhaps you deserve to lose them all.

PS: Have you thought of trying women?

** Mistress Pam**


End file.
